


Falling

by Ailette



Series: Changes [5]
Category: Sexy Zone
Genre: Fluff, Imported, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2018-06-05 06:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6693109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailette/pseuds/Ailette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When did you fall for me?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Last part of the Changes series, follows Talent.  
> (Originally posted at http://ailette.livejournal.com/76754.html)

“When did you fall for me?”

It’s so out of the blue that for a moment, Kento is sure his wandering mind is playing tricks on him. But then Fuma nudges his shoulder with his own and when he turns, the younger boy is looking at him expectantly.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly, and Fuma’s smile fades a little. He doesn’t like it. “Maybe I’ve always been in love with you ever since I first met you.”

“Liar,” Fuma says good-naturedly and squeezes the hand in his. “You completely did not look at me as anything but a younger brother in the beginning.”

Kento pouts, even though it’s true. Fuma obviously wants a real answer here and the atmosphere is light and comfortable enough for him to let his head fall back against the pillows and admit, “I don’t know when _exactly_. But I really noticed when we were doing that first summer photo shoot this year.”

He finds that there’s no need to elaborate, as Fuma is already nodding in understanding. Kento smiles as he raises their linked hands to look at them. This is nice. Just lying on the bed and talking, no need to be anywhere else, no one around to come between them. It occurs to him that now is probably the perfect moment to find out more about this topic. It has been nagging on him for a while already, so he turns his head to ask Fuma as well.

“When did you?”

Fuma scoffs and he halfway doesn’t expect to get a response. Or at least, not a serious one. Out of the two of them, it’s usually Kento who can talk about things like this whereas Fuma prefers to simply act. He really doesn’t like talking about feelings. It’s such a cliché ‘manly’ thing, it sometimes makes Kento laugh. All the more surprising for Fuma to bring it up in the first place.

“When do you think?” Fuma asks, clearly teasing. Kento rolls his eyes. Figures.

“Sometime after I made an ass of myself at the Jump concerts,” he guesses, but Fuma snorts, clearly dismissing that idea.

“Try again.”

Kento frowns. “What, even later than that?”

Fuma is grinning, not looking at him. Really, though. There wasn’t that much time between the awkward time at the Jump concerts and his blurted out confession in the middle of the street. So maybe…

“…did you have an epiphany when I confessed?”

This time, Fuma outright laughs at him. “What, you think with that awkward little kiss I suddenly came to my senses and realized my undying love for you? Yeah, right. Because that’s totally how it happens in real life.”

Kento huffs, a little annoyed now. “Fine, so that’s not the right answer either,” he mutters and glares at the ceiling. “So what is? Is the point of all this so you can tell me you never actually fell in love with me?”

Fuma’s hand tightens on his and Kento turns, gnawing on his lower lip. “Sorry,” Fuma says. But he doesn’t look all that remorseful, a small smile still playing around the corners of his lips. They’re looking directly at each other when Fuma starts talking and it takes Kento a second to realize that he’s finally answering his question.

“When we went on stage together for the first time.”

  
  


Fuma is standing, or maybe rather vibrating in place, clutching his microphone in one and the lyrics sheet in the other hand. He tries to read through it one more time, because the last few times his eyes couldn’t even focus on the neatly printed letters. It’s no better this time. Frustrated, he lowers the sheet and looks around. Everyone else seems calm, just the usual chaos of people looking for their groups, changing into costumes or breaking props – normal pre-concert state. For a moment, he even thinks someone calls his name, but that was either his imagination or someone from the audience. Because they’re already there, sitting and chatting and waiting to be entertained.

A hand clasps around his shoulder and Fuma literally jumps, yelping. He whisks around to see who it is and sighs. He’d hoped that Misaki had finally turned up, or maybe Takada; he could use someone who had gone through this whole ordeal before right now.

“Don’t _do_ that!” he chastises, but Kento is grinning, trying not to laugh at him. Why is he so relaxed? It’s also his first time to get a microphone. He should be just as bad as Fuma.

“Sorry,” Kento giggles, but leaves his hand where it is. “I was looking for you.”

Fuma’s ears pique up at that. “Why? Did they change something with our song? Are we not going to sing?” He hates how he sounds hopeful at the last sentence and hopes that Kento won’t notice.

“Nah, just saw you weren’t with the others yet and thought you might have gotten lost.”

“I’m not a kid, you know,” Fuma says with a roll of his eyes. Seriously, Kento is only one year older than him. And he doesn’t even look it!

“Right, right. Sorry,” Kento says and is grinning again. One of the staff is yelling directions, but it’s for Kis-My-Ft2. They watch as one by one, the group skates, hobbles and runs past them to receive new directions. Even only half dressed and, in one case, with curlers still in his hair, they all look pretty relaxed. Maybe because there are no cameras today? It must be nice to be used to all of this, Fuma thinks and sighs; his foot starting up an annoying tapping again.

He tries to stop, because Kento is watching him closely and he really doesn’t like to come across as childish, but it’s useless. The moment he gets his foot under control, he notices that his fingers are tapping out that exact same nervous rhythm against his pant leg. When Kento opens his mouth, he’s ready to roll his eyes –yes, he’s nervous. It must be obvious to people in a ten meter radius.

“Why are you nervous?”

Fuma blinks. “ _Why_?”

Kento shrugs. “Yeah. This isn’t our first time on stage; we’ve been back dancing before. And you know you’ve got a great voice, plus you were singing this song for the last couple of _weeks_. So why are you nervous?”

Because tons of things can go wrong: he could stumble, his microphone could die, he could forget the lyrics, he could fall off stage, he could trip up some of the others; for all he knows, he could faint the second the first note leaves his lips. He’s seen all of those happening and he hasn’t even been in Johnny’s for very long.

He opens his mouth to tell Kento, but then snaps it shut, rethinks it and instead, suspiciously, asks, “Why aren’t you?”

Kento grins. Not the slightly gloating grin from before, not just an amused smile, but one of his full-out, broad grins that look a little ridiculous on him, like his face isn’t big enough to contain a smile that size. It makes Fuma even more nervous.

“Because I don’t have to go out on my own,” Kento says brightly. “If one of us messes up, the other can help him out.”

Fuma blinks at him again, contemplating that. He doesn’t have time to answer, though, because now the staff is yelling for their group to come to their designated spot for entrance and they’re both jogging towards it. He’s not sure how or what happens next, but somehow they go out, Kento claps his back one last time, a little too forcefully, smiles at him reassuringly and then they’re on stage and they’re singing and… it’s _wonderful_. He instantly falls in love with performing on stage.

The music is coursing through him and before he knows it, he’s jumping up and down not from nervousness but excitement, impossibly _enjoying_ himself. He’s waving to the crowd as he’s singing, giddily looking to Kento who is also waving and smiling – but it’s a little off. The edges of his mouth are twitching like it’s hard to keep up the smile, there’s a light sheen of sweat covering his face and the hand that is holding his microphone is shaking violently. It’s a miracle he can even hold onto it like that, fingers white and cramped. And Fuma realizes mid-song, that Kento must have been just as scared as him. Only he hadn’t shown it and helped Fuma instead. The ecstasy of performing gets joined by a surge of warmth all throughout his body and his grin widens even more.

All too soon, the song is ending and he’s rushing off the stage. Kento is directly next to him when they come to a halt, looking at each other with wide eyes, like they can’t quite believe they made it back alive. The ridiculousness of the situation startles a laugh out of Fuma and the next thing he knows, he’s hugging Kento within an inch of his life.

His laugh must be infectious, because Kento joins him, his own arms slinging around Fuma in return as they cling to each other, probably looking insane to everyone else. Fuma can feel that Kento is still trembling whereas he feels, not calm, but exuberant and relaxed in an odd way. Just a few minutes ago, he’d been shaking like a leaf.

In between laughing, he finally manages a “Thanks,” when they separate and Kento looks surprised, then grins sheepishly and shakes his head. As they wander over to their next standby (though only for dancing now), he finds his eyes wandering over to Kento time and again. It puzzles him at first and he thinks that he probably just wants to make sure that the other is alright, or still there or something.

But when they’re leaving after the show has ended, and Kento waves him good-bye with another one of those goofy too-big smiles, he forgets how to breathe for a second and then he knows exactly what’s happening. He stays rooted to the spot, watching as Kento vanishes in the crowd and breathes in deeply. Then he smiles. He fell in love twice today.

  
  


 

He knew why Kento was crying; had heard some of the other boys call him out on his flamboyant behavior, his too big smile, his voice; everything that makes Kento so wonderful to Fuma. He’s heard, but hadn’t realized how much it had hurt the other boy until now.

Fuma wants to yell out for Kento, intent on confessing, but stops at the last second. He remembers the terrified boy on stage just months ago. The way he’d hidden his own discomfort to soothe Fuma. How would he react if he knew about Fuma’s feelings? He wouldn’t want to hurt him, even if he could never be in love with Fuma. He’d said it more than once and from the way he acted it was clear as day; he saw Fuma as a little brother. Kento might go along with it and get hurt himself; not caring.

Fuma feels a sharp stab of pain in his chest. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to be the one hurting Kento. He wants to protect that ridiculously big smile at all costs. So he decides not to say anything, ever, and instead just watch over Kento. Make sure he doesn’t get hurt.

Swallowing the sadness he feels at having to remain silent, he takes the first step forward. With each step he takes it gets easier to smile. By the time he reaches the boy, sitting alone, crying in a corner, he’s almost laughing.

Wordlessly, he puts the can of juice in Kento’s lap as he sits down next to him. Kento’s head whips around, a sob turning into a hiccup at the scare. But Fuma only grins at him, says, “Just something to drink,” and suddenly, Kento is bawling his eyes out again.

It tugs on Fuma’s heart strings, to see him like this, but he forces himself to open his own can and take a sip of tea even as Kento turns to bury his face in his shoulder and he feels the fabric get soaked through with the older boy’s tears.

They sit like that, in relative silence, for a few minutes before Fuma finally finds the courage to say, “They’re wrong.”

What he wants to say is that he loves Kento, loves him for everything he is and that he’s perfect in his eyes; but that would only make it all worse, wouldn’t it?

Kento’s voice is barely more than a small sniffle when he asks, “Why do they say that?”

“Well,” Fuma begins, pretending to be thinking about it before he looks at Kento with a smirk. If Kento smiled for him to help him, he can do it, too. “You can be kind of gross sometimes.” He grins. If Kento could hide how nervous he was for Fuma’s sake, he can hide his own feelings, too. He can concentrate on making Kento feel better instead.

“But, I think that’s okay. You wouldn’t be you without that. And I like you.”

He makes it sound like his opinion is more important than anyone else’s, like it is the only one Kento should care about. He really thinks it is.

And Kento laughs, eyes watery. It’s obvious just how much he doesn’t get how serious Fuma is with the last part and Fuma decides that this’ll be the only time he’ll say it.

“Thanks,” Kento says, still sniffling and he leans his head back on Fuma’s shoulder.

“Gross again,” Fuma comments dryly and Kento chuckles.

“I’ll only remember the liking part from now on every time you call me that,” he says, mockingly and Fuma sternly answers,

“Drink your juice and shut up, Nakajima.”

  
  


Fuma’s gaze wanders away from him, looking at the wall behind him instead.

“You were telling me not to be nervous and that it would be alright and then, when we sang, I noticed that your hand was shaking really badly. You could barely keep your microphone still.” The smile on his face broadens into something lazy and content. “You tried to make me feel better even though you were absolutely terrified yourself.”

Kento just lies there, staring, speechless. And really, what could he possibly say to that? He remembers both of those days, especially the latter, and suddenly it dawns on him. He’s never understood the significance of that moment.

“I knew I was in love with you right then and there. But you never even saw me like that back then, so of course I couldn’t tell you.”

Kento’s hand disentangles itself from his and Fuma blinks, looking almost surprised to find himself in the present.

“But that was years ago,” Kento whispers and he just shrugs because, well. Kento makes an odd little noise in the back of his throat and suddenly surges forward, cupping Fuma’s face to kiss him. It feels desperate, with the way he pours himself into it, like he wants to make up for all the kisses they hadn’t shared in the past and Fuma reaches out to slide one hand through silky dark hair, keeping Kento where he is even though they both know going anywhere is the furthest thing from his mind.


End file.
